


Two Birds On A Red Wire

by LetheMedeaTranquility



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender, 君の名は。| Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, If you've seen Kimi No Na Wa you know what to expect, Kimi no Na wa AU, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-01-25 04:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12522716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetheMedeaTranquility/pseuds/LetheMedeaTranquility
Summary: He flicked to the page that he’d previously dog-eared and puzzled over. It was covered in little doodles of stars and planets. The border of the page had a design of interlocking squares that were coloured in different shades of red pen. A little cat was inked among the planets, curled up and asleep among the moons of Jupiter. In the middle of the page, in sharp and spiked handwriting where the words,‘WHO ARE YOU?’





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HermsP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermsP/gifts).



He opened his eyes and yawned lazily; stretching his arms high above his head as he sat up.

 

_‘It’s Tuesday’_ he thought sleepily, morning sun casting its warm rays across his face as he lounged. He tipped his head up to look at the glow in the dark stars. Did one of them move? Probably not. The door opened, stirring him from his musings, and his little sister peaked around it. He stuck his tongue out at her and she grinned, throwing the door open and letting it bang against the wall. He winced at the rude awakening.

 

“Are you feeling better today?” Lance frowned - he’d been fine yesterday.

 

“What?” Rosalyn grabbed his hand and pulled him behind her, dragging him out of bed. She stopped in the doorway of his room and Lance nearly bowled her over at the sudden stop in momentum.

 

“Yeah!” She shouted emphatically; positively waking the whole house. “You were weird yesterday,” she then stood on her tiptoes and tried to whisper to him, “We were all really, really worried. Grandpa said that you must have been possessed.”

_‘What the-?’_

Wide eyed, Lance crouched down to her height and held her arm gently in his hand.

 

“Rosa?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“What day is it?” She frowned at him and crossed her arms over her chest.

 

“It’s Wednesday. Why? Shouldn’t you know that?” He ruffled her hair, feeling disco-ordinated, “Wait? Were you really possessed?”

 

“No!” he shrieked and jumped to his feet, before slinking down to sit on his bed and muttering, “Just a little out of it.”

 

A call for breakfast reverberated around the little house. The Martinez family home was small and somewhat cramped, but the land around it made up for the small house. The Martinez farm sold produce to their neighbours. They were situated away from the busy Varadero resorts, but close enough to the white sand and clear seas that Lance could run to the beach nearly every day when he wasn’t needed in the farm.

 

Another door creaked open and Francisco popped his head around. Spying his younger sister, he ran forward and grabbed Rosalyn with a cry of ‘Breakfast!’. Together, the youngest of the Martinez siblings ran downstairs. They’d run to catch up with their cousins as soon as they were downstairs. Lance tilted his head upwards and let out a breath; thankful for being as alone as he could be. He went back into his room to mull over the information and dress. As he shut his door behind him, the last words anyone could here were,

“What happened yesterday?”

* * *

 

Heat bore down on his back and he groggily opened his eyes.

 

_‘Why are his curtains open?’_

 

He rolled over onto his back and threw his arm over his face, groggily opening his eyes. Only to slam them back shut.

 

“What the fuck?”

 

He opened his eyes again. A ceiling covered in stars stared down at him. Where was he? He squinted at the ceiling, almost entirely sure that the stars were arranged in near perfect constellations. The Plough was slightly off. It was bugging him now that he could see it. Concentrating on his task, he stood on the bed and reached up to peel the last star off and shift it a few crucial degrees. That’s when he noticed that his hand was tanned. Thoroughly freaked out, he willed it to close into a fist and the alien hand did. The nails were perfectly manicured and painted blue and white in mimicry of waves. He continued to inspect the hands; noting how the scars from where knives had nicked him over the years were missing. They were slender and smooth where his should have been calloused from years of fighting.

 

He then looked around. Seashells lent against the window and a wardrobe stood across from a desk. A colourful rug spread out across the floor. Posters and pictures were plastered over the walls. Some of the posters depicted the Galaxy Garrison, others showed what could be characters from different cartoons and animes and most of them showed different parts of space. A large spread of Jupiter was right next to him; obviously ripped from a magazine of some sort.

 

Bang!

 

He spun towards the sound. His feet got tangled in the sheets and he slipped off the bed, toppling onto the rug. A child stood in the door way, disturbingly imposing in the doorway from where he was staring at her. _This had to be a dream_. She shouted something in a language that he didn’t know - it sounded like Spanish. He only knew basic Spanish that he was made to learn in high school and then promptly forgot. _Maybe he should learn a language_ , he mused as he ripped the blankets that had trapped and tripped him. He walked over to the desk that seemed to double as a vanity table and stared into the mirror there.

He frowned; watching the foreign face contort. Brown hair surrounded the face he was borrowing and dark blue eyes looked back at him. _This is such a weird dream._

_Who is this person?_

 

Whoever this was, he definitely wasn’t Keith.

* * *

 

 

Lance sighed as he flipped through his books. His teacher was stood at the front of the class and was talking about something to do with literary tropes. Hunk sat in the seat next to him, scribbling notes and trying to keep up with her.

 

Hunk had moved to Cuba a few years ago from Hawaii; his grandfather had fell ill and his mother had brought her wife and son with her. He’d latched onto Lance, as he was the first teenager he’d met, but they’d become close friends quickly. Lance had introduced him to his internet friend Katie and they regularly geeked out about scientific discoveries and space together. Katie and Lance ranted about movies and Hunk regularly commandeered Katie to compare technology that they’d made or hacked or dismantled. Together the three of them were a force to be reckoned with.

 

Right now, though, Hunk was kicking his leg discreetly. Lance glanced at him, then realised that he’d been staring down at one page of his notebook for the last few minutes. He grinned at Hunk and folded the corner over before he flipped to a clean page and took up his pen.

 

They’d been learning about love, soul mates and the red string of fate and its portrayal in media across the world. Lance rubbed his fingers over the braided yarn that wrapped several times around his left wrist. He idly wondered if he had a soul mate – hopefully a dark-haired beauty or an alien from outer space. He caught the eye of a girl across the class and smirked flirtingly in her direction. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, turning back to the front of the class.

 

“Are you alright?” Hunk hissed the concerned question to him as Mrs Rodríguez began to pass out worksheets.

 

“Yeah buddy. Never better.” Hunk just raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.

 

“You acted all withdrawn and strange yesterday and today you seem slightly out of it.” He kicked back at Hunk’s feet gently,

 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” Hunk nodded before asking,

 

“How’s your sister?”

 

Lance rolled his eyes so hard that his head moved,

 

“It’s taking over her life! She’s never at home and, when she is, she never stops talking about it. It’s unhealthy. She’s gone power mad!” Hunk patted his arm sympathetically and he grimaced a smile back before dropping his head to the table, “I love her to bits, but,“ Lance sighed again as a worksheet was placed on the table.

 

“It’s nothing.” He said finally, lying through his teeth.

 

He flicked to the page that he’d previously dog-eared and puzzled over. It was covered in little doodles of stars and planets. The border of the page had a design of interlocking squares that were coloured in different shades of red pen. A little cat was inked among the planets, curled up and asleep among the moons of Jupiter. In the middle of the page, in sharp and spiked handwriting where the words,

 

‘ _WHO ARE YOU?_ _’_

* * *

 

He was thankful to leave the house after a disastrous breakfast. There were three generations at the cramped dining table and they all shouted over each other. Two little kids had, at one point, been wrangled into chairs to be forced to eat – one of them was the girl from earlier. It was too loud and had put him on edge. A man tried to talk to him – he must’ve been this boy’s father – and Keith just made noncommittal noises in the back of his throat. Everything had gone silent. Everyone was wide eyed and looked concerned. Keith twisted his face into a smile and tried to think back to high school Spanish. Nothing.

 

An old man snarked something and the old woman snapped at him as he laughed. The table went back to talking amongst them. A middle-aged woman, probably this person’s mother pressed the back of her hand on his forehead. Keith had jumped at the sudden contact and she tutted softly before gently stroking his hair and turning away to finish eating.

 

A knock could be heard and the possible mother went to get the door. She called back and a young adult woman pushed Keith. Going with the que that the door was for him (well, for the boy that he was inhabiting) he left the room.

 

A large and friendly looking teen was waiting outside the front door and Keith followed him, nodding politely as he talked. They were both wearing the same uniform, so it was obvious that they were going to school. He’d left his high school earlier that year and had been studying at the Galaxy Garrison for the last few months. This really wasn’t something that he was looking forward to.

 

They walked along the dirt track together in the illusion of comfortable silence. The early morning sun beat down on his head and bowed neck. It was far too long before they came to a stop and the teen grinned down at Keith. Keith sent a small and awkward smile up to him and nearly cried with relief when a rundown bus stopped in front of them. He followed the larger teen onto the crammed and hot vehicle. Sweat clung to him and the people were all wearing variations of the same uniform as him.

 

Keith discreetly fanned himself, before realizing that that had made everything worse. The bus jerked into a stop and a hand clamped down on his shoulder as if to steady him. Keith tensed up and stepped away awkwardly. His brown eyes widened and he stuttered out something seemed like an apology from his tone of voice and deflating stature; inexplicably reminding him of a kicked puppy.

 

A while of ways later, they’d exited the bus to join the meandering streams of uniformed teenagers and children that split into two buildings. Keith hurried to stay near the boy that he’d journeyed with. He decided to call him Yellow from his headband, and instantly felt bad that he couldn’t just ask the friendly giant his name. _Because that would go down well,_ he thought sardonically. How would that conversation go down?

 

_“Hey, big guy! I’m inhabiting your friend’s body and don’t know who he is or who you are – mind giving a few pointers… Wait! You want to know if your friend is alright? Well shit, I don’t know jack.”_

He shook the imaginary conversation away and followed Yellow into a classroom. Yellow sat at a desk and Keith hesitantly sat at the desk to his right. He said something good-natured and jerked his thumb to the seat on his other side, grinning all the while. Keith nodded in thanks and languidly sat into his assigned seat. The door opened and other students came into the room, a woman (he was sure she must be the teacher) ushering them all in front of her.

 

A register was called and Yellow nudged him out of a daydream. He made a noise in the back of his throat and the teacher was apparently satisfied. Then he’d realized that he could have used that opportunity to find out the boy’s name.

 

_He was an idiot!_

 

Keith angrily opened the notebook and roughly flipped to a clean page. Fuelled by anger at himself, he scrawled “WHO ARE YOU?” across the white canvas in the first pen that he’d grabbed. Dark red ink slashed over the paper. It looked something like blood, collected in the deep groves he’d left in the paper. It was a surprise that it hadn’t ripped.

 

Determined to calm himself down, he concentrated on sketching interlocking squares along the edge. Then, remembering the stars on the bedroom ceiling, little stars and planets to occupy the white nothingness.

 

The day passed quickly and Keith had a spark of inspiration and doodled a little, magenta cat; resting amongst the galaxy.

 

He finally smiled and closed the notebook as Yellow closed his and began packing away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smol chapter.

Lance woke up by smacking into the ground. Luckily the blankets had softened the fall from the bed and he now lay in them, cocooned away from the unnatural cold. 

The summer months were just beginning! Why is it so cold?

He groaned, shuffling out of the heap of blankets and onto the rug. It wasn’t soft enough. Lance frowned – which of his relatives had swapped his super-duper soft rug with this bristly mockery. He opened his eyes, noticing that it was a deep red colour and became confused. They didn’t have a red rug. He pushed himself up onto his hands so his chest arched into a yoga position he had long forgotten the name off – the cobra? Something like that. Back to the mystery of the monstrosity of the rug. It wasn’t a rug, it was a carpet. Lance wasn’t in his room. 

He didn’t know where he was.

He sat up and took in his surroundings, wide eyed with fear. The room was rather plain. A wardrobe sat in one corner and a desk stood adjacent to it. He was leaning against a bed that was leaning against the opposite door. A small bookcase was opposite the wardrobe and it seemed to be bursting with books. Lance scrambled to his feet, only tangling himself once in the bedding, and inspected. On the table was a phone and he flicked through it, thankful for the lack of passcode. The home and lock screens were both generic pictures that came with the phone and it had no photos. What it did have, however, was notes. The notes app was filled with dated memos that where kept almost like a diary. Lance read through them idly; work, school, work, school. Boring. 

Something tickled at the base of his neck and he brought a hand up to scratch it, freezing suddenly. What had happened to his hair? He gripped the bangs – when did he have bangs? – and pulled them in front of his face. They were pitch black. His hands were pale – that wasn’t a trick of the light? 

Panic took over. He started to hyperventilate. He needed a mirror – stat. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God no. 

He banged the doors of the wardrobe open desperately. Dark clothes, jeans and random accents of bright colour. Reds and flashes of white. His hands scrambled at the inside of the door, wishing his eyes were deceiving him - letting out a frustrated scream when there wasn’t a mirror. He flung himself around, looking to the desk. It was no vanity, but there were draws. He fell to his knees and began dragging them out, one, two at a time. Lint, scraps of paper, a pocket knife or two. Nothing of importance. Frenzied, Lance stood and spun – searching for anywhere a mirror might be. The door.

He went towards it; unable to go any further once he got there. A million what-ifs flashed through his mind and he ignored them all before he began to wallow in them. Lance pushed the handle down. It gave easily and he left it do clatter off the wall as he darted through. Metal and sterile white passed around him in a blur. He needed a bathroom. He spied the universal sign and darted in that direction only to crash into something.

Scratch that – someone. 

“Keith, what the hell?” A few things darted around Lance’s head: English, Keith and the niggling feeling that this kid was familiar in some way. He blurted out the English for ‘bathroom’ and pushed past him. Glasses followed him,   
“Why are you in so much of a hurry?” Lance ignored him and slid to a stop amidst the white tiles. Dramatically, he turned to the mirrors with his head tipped down. He looked his reflection in the eyes.

There were purple eyes and pale skin. Asian features and a honest to God mullet in this day and age. Determined not to be a protagonist that stared at their reflection in distinct detail, he tore his eyes away. He wasn’t in his body. He was this ‘Keith’. Keith with a goddamn mullet. Keith in a militaristic unifo-

No!

The Galaxy Garrison uniform. This must be the Galaxy Garrison. Lance Martinez was in the Galaxy Garrison. Pure joy flashed across his face, then came back and camped there. 

“Ok. Who are you, and what have you done with Keith?” It was the same person as last time. Lance took a moment to look at him – he was small, with honey blond hair and large circular glasses. “Are you ill?”

“Yes.” It slipped out before he could stop it. The boy raised an eyebrow sceptically, before pointing behind him,

“I’ll tell Shiro and you go back to bed. He’ll have your head if you vomit on a teacher - I’ve seen him shout at Matt Holt before now for it.” Lance nodded dumbly, before doing a double take at Matt’s name,

“Katie’s brother?” He narrowed his eyebrows and glared at Lance,

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

Lance ducked around the kid and went back to his – Keith’s – room. This was so cool! He’s always wanted to go to Galaxy Garrison and here he was, living the dream.   
Line Break  
Keith groggily opened his eyes before launching himself out of bed. His bed. He relaxed, dropping onto the mess of covers. Springs bounced him slightly as he observed his room. Keith was glad to be back at the Garrison (and he never thought he’d say that) after his excursion in another’s body. 

He idly checked his phone. A few messages where from other people – mainly Shiro. The backdrop wasn’t the old, generic lock screen that came with the phone. It was him. Him in eyeliner and red lipstick. Swearing harshly, he realised that he wasn’t the only one taking excursions on other people’s bodies. Specifically, his. 

Probably the Cuban boy.

**Author's Note:**

> I told my friend I would write this after she recommended Kimi No Na Wa to me (and it is amazing). I'm having loads of fun writing this haha


End file.
